


Almost Lovers

by hidingoutbackstage



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Almost Maine AU, I was in this play and thought it'd be cute with these characters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9473471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidingoutbackstage/pseuds/hidingoutbackstage
Summary: Basically the play "Almost Maine" but with the BBS.





	1. Prologue

It was late. Not that late, but late enough that the stars were out, and Evan and Jon were sitting on their bench, watching the twinkling lights in the sky. Evan would occasionally sneak a glance at Jon, and would often feel Jon's eyes on him. He wanted to say something, Evan could tell, but he wasn't sure what was on the other's mind.

Finally, Jon spoke. "Evan, I-"

"What?"

"I'm just-having a nice time!" Jon said quickly, as if changing what he was going to say at the last second.

"I'm glad, Jon."

"I always do with you." Evan noticed Jon blush slightly as he said that.

"I'm glad," Evan repeated. Both men leaned back on the bench and looked back at the stars.

"And the stars, are just, I didn't know you knew all that stuff. After all this time, I didn't know you knew all that," Jon rambled.

"Well, it's not-it's just stuff my dad taught me."

Jon bit his lip, looking nervous. He turned and stared at Evan. "Evan?"

Evan turned and locked eyes with Jon. "Yeah?"

Jon took a deep breath. "I love you," he finally said.

"Oh…" Evan saw the immediate regret on the man's face. "I…love you too," he said.

"Oh!" Jon said joyfully. He gave a little shiver.

"Oh, are you cold? Wanna go inside?"

"No! No, that's ok. I just want to stay like this, close. I feel so close to you tonight. It's nice to be close to you, Evan." Jon confessed. "I like being close. Like this. I can think of…other ways to be close to you, but that's not-that's not-I like this right now. This kind of close. Right next to you."

He scooted over on the bench until he was right next to Evan and laid his head on the other man's shoulder. "You know, right now, I feel like I'm as close to you as I can possibly be."

"Well…not really," Evan said.

Jon lifted his head. "What?"

"I mean, not really. If you think about it in a different way, you're not really close to me at all," Evan said, still trying himself to figure out what he was trying to say. "You're actually as far away from me as you can possibly be. If you're assuming the earth is round like a ball-like a snowball-" he gathered some snow on the ground and formed it into a sphere. "See, if I'm here-" He pointed at the top of the snowball. "And you're there-" he pointed right next to it. "Then…" he brought his finger the entire way around the snowball to the first spot he pointed out. "That's far."

"Yeah," Jon said, seeming disheartened. He scooted away.

Evan looked down, realizing that he was pushing Jon away. "But, now you're closer," he said hopefully, trying to keep Jon from being upset.

Jon stood up, thoughtfully, and took a step away. "And closer," Evan said Jon stopped and looked back at Evan, but didn't say anything. He took a few more steps. "And closer." Jon turned around, but neither said more. He continued walking away. "And closer…" Jon didn't turn around this time, he just kept walking. "And closer…and closer…and closer…" Jon was finally out of earshot and eyeshot.

"And…closer…"

Evan looked down at the snowball, then back to where he watched Jon disappear. That's not what he intended. He looked down again.

What the heck did he just do?


	2. His Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original: Her Heart  
> Characters: Glory, East  
> Fanfic: His Heart  
> Chracters: Brian, Brock

It was late. Not that late, but Brock wasn't expecting to see someone in his yard during this time at night. And yet, here someone was. In his yard. He was able to see the stranger from his window. They looked lost; they kept looking at the sky. Brock figured he could at least give the guy some directions, so he threw a coat on over his pajamas and went outside.

When he got out there, he saw the person clutching a brown grocery bag and staring at the sky. He seemed oblivious to Brock's presence.

"Hello," Brock said.

The stranger turned to face him. "Hello," he said, before returning to look at the sky.

"I thought I saw someone," Brock commented. "I was about to go to bed. I saw you from my window." He shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "Can I… is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh no, I'm just here to see the northern lights," the guy said, turning, once again, to look at the sky.

Brock nodded like he understood. "Okay, okay. It's just awful late and you're in my yard…"

"Oh I hope you don't mind. I'll only be here tonight. I'll see them tonight, the northern lights, and then I'll be gone," the man explained. "I hope you don't mind-"

"Is that your tent?" Brock interrupted, noticing the tent for the first time.

"Yes."

"You pitched a tent-"

"So I have a place to sleep-"

"-in my yard."

"-after I see them, I hope you don't mind."

"Well, it's not that I-" Brock started.

"Do you mind?" The man interrupted.

"Well I don't know if-" Brock started again.

"Oh no, I think you mind," the stranger said, suddenly worried and embarrassed.

"No, it's not that I mind-" Brock insisted.

"No you do. You do. Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't think you would," the man apologized. "I didn't think- You see, it says in your brochure-"

"My brochure?" Brock asked, confused.

"-that people from Maine wouldn't mind. It says," he pulled out his brochure and pointed at a certain passage. "That people from Maine are different, that they live life 'the way life should be,' and that 'in the tradition of their brethren in rural northern climes like Scandinavia,' they'll let people who are complete strangers-like skiers, and bikers and hikers-camp out in their yard, if they need to, for nothing. They'll just let you." The man seemed to notice the questioning look on Brock's face. "I'm a hiker. Is it true?"

"Well…" Brock tried to think of a way to respond.

"That they'll just let you camp out in their yards if you need to? Cause I need to. Camp out. Cause I'm where I need to be. This is the farthest I've ever traveled-I'm from part of the country that's a little closer to things-never been this far north, or east, and did you know that Maine is the only state in the country that's attached to just one other state?!" he asked excitedly.

"Um-"

"It is!" The stranger said almost breathlessly. "Feels like the end of the world. And here I am, at the end of the world, and I have nowhere to go, so I was counting on staying here-unless it's not true. I mean, is it true? Would you let a hiker who was where he needed to be camp out in your yard for free?"

"Well-"  
"I mean, if a person really needed to?"  
"Well-"  
"Reallyreally needed to?"  
"Well if a person really needed to sure, but-"

"Oh I'm so glad, thank you," the man said in relief, giving Brock a quick hug. Brock wasn't sure why, but the act made his face heat up. Nevertheless, he hugged the man back. When they parted, Brock noticed he was holding the bag the man had previously been holding. The stranger held his gaze for a second, then resumed looking at the sky. After a few seconds, he seemed to notice that he wasn't holding his bag anymore.

"Oh, my gosh. I need that," he said, pointing to the bag.

"Oh. Here," Brock said, handing it back. The man clutched it to his chest, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Thank you." He resumed looking for the northern lights.

"Sure. Yeah…okay…yeah," he said awkwardly. The stranger didn't seem to notice his ridiculous muttering. "So, you're just looking for a place to see the northern lights from?"

"Yeah. Just tonight," the man clarified.

"Well, you know, you might not see 'em tonight, cause you never really know if-"

"Oh no. I'll see them. Because I'm in a good place. Your latitude is good. And this is the right time. Solar activity is at an eleven year peak. Everything's in order. And boy, you have good sky for it. There's lots of sky here," he said in wonderment.

"Used to be a potato farm," Brock commented.

"I was gonna say-no trees in the way. And it's flat. Makes for a big sky!"

"Yeah."

"So you're a farmer?" the stranger asked.

"No. Used to be a farm. I'm a repairman. Fix things."

"Oh." The man chuckled a little.

"What?"

"You're not a lobster man."

That caught Brock by surprise. "No…"

"I guess I thought that everyone from Maine was a lobster man and talked in that funny…way like they do in Maine, and you don't talk that way."

"Nope. You're not down east. You're up north. And this is how we talk up north, pretty much," Brock explained.

"Oh," the stranger commented, seeming to be enjoying the conversation.

"Plus, ocean's a couple hundred miles away. Be an awful long ride to work if I was a lobster man."

"Yeah. Well anyway, thank you. Thank you for letting me stay. I've had a bad enough time of things lately not to be given a bad time here-" the man stopped talking because Brock, who was inexplicably drawn towards him, gave him a kiss. When the two pulled apart, Brock noticed he was clutching the bag again.

"Oh…" Brock said, realizing what he'd just done.

"Um…" the man said, equally as stunned.

"Oh."

"Um…"

"Oh boy."

"Um…"

"I'm sorry, I just…I think I love you," Brock said, not realizing what he was saying until he said it.

"Really?" the man asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Brock said, still perplexed by his own words and actions. "I saw you from my window and…I love you."

"Well…that's very nice…but there's something I think you should know: I'm not here for that," the stranger said, clearly embarrassed.

"Oh no! I didn't think you were-" Brock tried to apologize.

"I'm here to pay respects," he explained.

"Oh."

"To my husband."

Brock flushed pink. "Oh."

"Yeah: My husband. Wes. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, cause he died recently. On Tuesday, actually. And, see, the northern lights-did you know this?-the northern lights are really the torches that the recently departed carry with them so they can find their way to heaven, and see, it takes three for a soul to make its way home, to heaven, and this is Friday! This is the third day, so you see, I will see them, the northern lights, because they're him: He'll be carrying one of the torches. And, see, I didn't leave things well with him, so I was just hoping I could come say goodbye to him and not be bothered, but what you did just a second ago-" he said, tone switching from excited to uncomfortable. "that bothered me, I think, and I'm not here for that, so maybe I should go and find another yard-"

"No! No! I'm sorry if I… if I've behaved in a way that i shouldn't have-"

"No, I think-" the stranger said, clutching his brochure and looking ready to leave.

"No! I really don't know what happened," Brock apologized profusely.

"Well I do, I know what happened," the man said angrily.

"I'm not the kind of person who does things like that," Brock said, finally silencing the stranger, who seemed to calm down. "Please. Don't go. Just-do what you need to do. I won't bother you. Maybe just…consider what I did a very warm Maine welcome."

"All right. All right." The two stood in silence for a moment. "My name's Brian," the man finally said.

"I'm Brock."

"Nice to meet you, Brock. I hope you don't mind me asking, but where is this town? Where am I? I couldn't find it in my map."

Brock debated for a second on whether or not to tell Brian the truth. "Um…Almost," he finally said, expecting Brian to laugh at him.

Instead he just looked curious. "What?" he asked.

"You're in unorganized territory. Township Thirteen, Range Seven." Brock noticed Brian checking his map. "It's not gonna be on your map, cause it's not an actual town, technically."

"What do you mean-"

"See, to be a town, you gotta get organized. And we never got around to getting organized, so we're just…Almost."

"Oh." Brian looked back at the sky and hugged the brochure to his chest. He suddenly started hyperventilating. "Oh…Oh!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"My heart!" he gasped, clutching his chest.

"What-Are you okay?" Brock asked, still confused.

"My heart!" Brian pointed to the bag Brock had been holding.

"What?"

"You have my heart!"

"I-"

"In that bag! It's in that bag! Please give back! Please! It's my heart! I need it! Please!"

"Okay, okay, okay," Brock said, giving Brian back the bag.

"Thank you," Brian said gratefully. His breathing started to normalize.

"You're welcome." After a few seconds, he began to process what just happened. "I'm sorry, did you just say that…you're heart is in that bag? That your heart-"

"Yes," Brian said, sounding almost ashamed.

"It's heavy," Brock commented after a few seconds.

"Yes."

"Why is it in that bag?"

"It's how I carry it around," Brian explained nonchalantly.

"Why?"

"It's broken."

"What happened?"

"Wes broke it."

"Your husband?" Brock felt kind of annoying with asking so many questions, but he was curious.

"Yeah. He went away," Brian said solemnly.

"Oh."

"With someone else."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. And when he did that, I felt like my heart would break. And that's exactly what happened. It broke: hardened up and cracked in two. Hurt so bad, I had to go to the hospital, and when I got there, they told me they were gonna have to take it out. And when they took it out, they dropped it on the floor, and it broke into nineteen pieces." Brian gently shook the bag, which rattled slightly. "Slate. It turned to slate."

"Great for roofing," Brock said, then mentally cursed himself for such a ridiculous comment. "Wait a second, how do you breathe? If your heart is in that bag, how are you alive?"

"Artificial," Brian said, giving his chest a tap.

"Really."

"Yeah. Cause my real one's broken."

"Then why do you carry it around with you?"

"It's my heart," Brian stated, like it was obvious.

"But it's broken," Brock pointed out.

"Yeah."

"Cause your husband left you."

"Yeah."

"Well why are you paying your respects to him if he left you?"

"Because that's what you do when a person dies, you pay them respects-"

"But he left you," Brock interjected.

"Yeah, but-" Brian tried to protest.

"And it seems to me that a man who leaves somebody doesn't deserve any respects."

"Well I just didn't leave things well with him-" Brian deflected.

"What do you mean?" Brock pressed.

"-and I need to apologize to him."

"But he left you."

"I know, but-"

"Why should you apologize?"

"Because!" Brian shouted.

"Because why?" Brock shouted back.

"Because I killed him!" Everything, even noises from the outside world, like insects chirping or even trees rustling, had disappeared at the statement.

"Oh…" Brock said, slowly starting to back away.

"See, he had come to visit me when I was in recovery from when they put my artificial heart in. I was almost better, I was just about to go home too. And he said," Brian gave a little laugh, like something was funny, but a sick kind of funny. "He said he wanted me back. And I said 'Wes, I have a new heart now. I'm sorry. It just doesn't want you back.' And that just killed him."

"Oh," Brock said in relief. "But it didn't kill him-you didn't kill him-"

"Yes I did! Because he got so sad that my new heart didn't want him back that he just tore outta that hospital and…an ambulance that was coming in from an emergency didn't see him and just…took him out. And if I'd have just been able to take him back-" Brian said, starting to get upset.

"Brian-" Brock tried to console home.

"He wouldn't have torn outta there like that-"

"Brian!"

"-and been taken out like that, and so I just feel that, for closure, the right thing to do is-" Brian was cut off by Brock kissing him again. When he pulled away, Brock took the bag, but this time Brian noticed immediately and took it right back. "Please stop doing that!" Brian begged.

"Why? I love you!"

"Well don't!"

"Why?"

"Because I won't be able to love you back. I have a heart that can pump my blood and that's all. The one that does the other stuff is broken. It doesn't work anymore." Brian looked at the ground solemnly. Brock deliberately pulled him into another kiss. Brian broke away, but Brock still had the heart. Angrily, Brian snatched it from him, but Brock snatched it right back.

"Please let me have this," Brock pleaded.

"No! It's mine!" Brian said stubbornly, making a grab for it, but Brock kept it away.

"I can fix it!" Brock tried to convince.

"I don't think I want you to!"

"Brian-"

"Brock please give that back to me!"

"But it's broken-"

"Please!"

"It's no good like this!"

"But it's my heart, Brock!"

"Yes it is! And I believe I have it!" Both men stood in silence at the comment. "And I can fix it," Brock continued. "I'm a repairman. I repair things. It's what I do."

Brian looked away, thinking hard. He looked back at the sky, and it was lit up with all the beautiful colors of the northern lights. Blue, green, purple, pink. "Oh! Oh, wow! Oh wow, they're so beautiful. Oh, oh! Wes! Goodbye Wes, I'm so sorry! Goodbye Wes." He looked over to Brock, who was still holding the bag with the heart. Yet for some reason, Brian wasn't having trouble breathing anymore. "Hello, Brock."


	3. Sad&Glad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original: Sad&Glad  
> Characters:  
> Jimmy  
> Sandrine  
> Waitress  
> Fic: Sad&Glad  
> Characters:  
> Lui  
> Scotty  
> Waiter

It was late. Not that late, but late enough that Almost’s famous hangout, the Moose Paddy, was packed. Lui was sitting by himself, as usual, in a corner of the bar, fiddling with his third beer bottle.

He scanned the bar, and happened to notice someone familiar. Was that…no way.

It was.

“Scotty!” Lui shouted, getting Scott's attention.

"Lui!" Scotty said, a little uncomfortable and over-enthusiastically.

"Hey!" Lui said excitedly.

"Hey!" Scotty said, still seeming uncomfortable.

"Hey!" Lui repeated.

"Hey!" Scotty said again. Lui pulled Scotty in for a quick hug, which Scotty didn't return.

"How you doin'?" Lui asked.

"Doin pretty good, how are you doing?"

"Doing good, doing good. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, doing good-great! How are you?" Scotty said, seeming even more awkward than before.

"Great, how are ya?"  
"Great, great."  
"Oh, that's great."  
"Yeah!"  
"That's great!"  
"Yeah…"  
"That's great!"  
"Yeah…"  
"You look great!"  
"Aw thanks!"  
"You look great!"  
"Thanks."  
"You do, you look so great!"  
"Thanks, Lui."  
"You do, you look so great."  
"Thaaaaanks…"

"Here, have a seat," Lui said hopefully.

"Oh, Lui, I can't-" Scotty tried to protest.

"Aw come on, I haven't seen you in…well, months."

"Yeah…"

"And months and months and months and months and months and months and months. How does that happen? Live in the same town as someone and never see them?"

"I don't know?" Scotty said excessively cheerfully.

"I mean, I haven't seen you since the morning when I woke up and you were just gone," Lui said, acting like he wasn't trying to guilt-trip Scotty at all.

"Yeah…" Scotty said uncomfortably. "I, uh-"

Suddenly a waiter came up to the two guys. "Look at you, tucked away in the corner over here! Lucky I found ya!" He chirped. "Are you two sweethearts ready for another round?"

"Sure we'll-" Lui began.

"No, we're not together-" Scotty interjected.

"Well, we could-" Lui tried again.

"We're all set, thanks," Scotty insisted.

"Well maybe we could-"

"All set."

Lui felt defeated. "Yeah."

"Okay. Well, holler if you need anything!" the waiter said, ignoring the little argument that had just happened in front of him.

"Thanks," Scotty said.

"No, really, you gotta holler. It's busy up front." He strolled back to the front of the bar.

"So, you here with anyone?" Lui asked, trying to keep Scotty around a little longer.

"Yeah, the guys. We're, uh… guy's night! We're in the front." He took a step back. "Actually, I had to use the men's room, so I should probably get back to them-"

"Aw but I haven’t seen ya. They'll survive without you for a minute or two," Lui insisted. “So, what’s been-here.” He motioned for Scotty to sit down, which he did, somewhat reluctantly. “What’s been going on, what’cha been up to?”

“Well-”

“Did you know I took over dad’s business?”

“Yeah, that’s great…”  
“I run it now!”  
“I heard that.”  
“Heard that.”  
“Runnin’ the business.”  
“Congratulations.”  
“Running the whole show!”  
“Good for you. Good for you.”

“The whole shebang-thanks-We still do heating and cooling-”

“Yeah?”

“And we’ve expanded too. We do rugs now. We shampoo ‘em.” It’d been a while since anyone cared enough to listen to Lui talk about his business, so even though it probably sounded boring, he was glad he could talk to someone, especially if it was Scotty.

“Oh,” Scotty said with somewhat fake interest, glancing over at his friends up front.

“It’s a lotta work. A lotta work. I’m on call a lot: weekends, holidays, you name it, cause you know, your heat goes, people die-it’s serious.”

“Yeah…” Scotty bit his lip and looked down at his hands.

“Like I do Christmas, cause I let the guys who work for me, like, Brock helps with repairs sometimes, I let ‘em have the day off so they can be with their families since I’m all alone this year.”

“Oh.”

“I really don’t have anybody anymore, really,” Lui said, driving the point home. “My brother and sister got canned, so they left town, and Mom and Dad retired, headed south.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

“Vermont.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, winters there are a lot easier. And…I don’t know if you heard, but…then Spot went and died on me.”

“Oh, Lui, I didn’t know that,” Scotty said, showing real attention and sympathy for the first time since he’d sat down.

“Yeah. He was old. It was his time. He was a good fish, though.” Lui paused, trying not to get too upset. “But, like I said, I don’t really have anybody anymore, really…but, so, um, I was wondering-would you like to come over? It’d be fun! Catch up, hang out?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, Lui…”

Suddenly their waiter came blasting in. “And I forgot to tell ya-don’t forget: Friday night special at the Moose Paddy: Drink free if you’re sad. So, if you’re sad, or you two little lovebirds are ready for another coupla Buds or somethin’, you just let me know, all right?”

Scotty nervously tried to protest again. “No, we’re-”

“Okay!” Lui said enthusiastically.

“Okay,” Scotty said in defeat.

“Okay!” the waiter sang.

“So, what d’ya say?” Lui asked once the waiter had left. “Wanna come over, for fun?”

“No, Lui. I can’t. I can’t,” Scotty protested, standing up. “I really gotta get back with the guys”

“But-” Lui protested.

“Yeah, Lui, yeah. I gotta,” Scotty said, forceful, but somewhat kind. “Cause see…oh gosh, I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while: There’s a guy, Lui. I’ve got a guy.”

Lui felt the huge blow as if he’d been socked in the jaw. But he tried to be tough. “Oh.”

“Yeah…” Scotty said guiltily.

“Well…Good for you. Getting yourself out there again. Movin’ on.”

“Well…actually, Lui, it’s more than me just getting myself out there and moving on. Um…this is my…bachelor party.” He must have noticed the blank look on Lui’s face, so he filled in the blank. “I’m getting married.”

Another sock to the jaw. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. That’s…thought you said you weren’t gonna do that. Get married. Thought it wasn’t for you, you told me.” Lui sighed and tapped absentmindedly on his bottle. “Guess it just…wasn’t for you, with me.” Scotty looked uncomfortable, but didn’t make to leave yet. “So, who’s the lucky guy?”

“Uh, Marcel, you know him? The, uh-”

“The ranger guy, over in Ashland?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. He’s a legend. Legendary. I mean, if you’re lost on a mountain in Maine, he’s the guy you want looking for ya.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, if you’re lost out there in this big, bad, northern world, he’s the guy you wanna have go out there and find you!” he said dramatically.

Scotty flinched a little. “Yeah.”

“And…he…found you.”

“I’m sorry I never told you-I actually thought you woulda known. I thought you would have heard,” Scotty admitted.

“How would I have heard?” Lui asked.

“Well, you know…people talk.”

“Not about things you don’t wanna hear, they don’t. And I gotta be honest with you: That’s not something I woulda wanted to hear. So…when’s the big event?”

“Um…tomorrow!”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well then…” He took a long swig from his beer bottle, and stood up, waving his arm to bring the waiter over. As he did so, his sleeve slid up his arm a little. “HEY!” he called towards the front.

Scotty looked toward the front nervously. “What are you doing?!”

“Getting our waiter, he said holler.” He waved towards the front again. “HEY!” He looked at Scotty again. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know-he’s new here-”

“HEY!”

“What are you doing?!”

“We gotta celebrate! You got found! And you deserve it. He’s quite a guy.”

“Lui…”

“And so are you.”

Scotty looked touched. “Aw, Lui.”

“HEY!”

“Lui!” He suddenly looked at Lui’s wrist. “Lui-whoa-hey, what’s that?”

“What?”

“That.” He pointed at the black mark on Lui’s wrist.

Lui glanced at his wrist and covered it with his other hand, still keeping his hand in the air. “Oh-nothin’-tattoo.” He waved his hand again. “HEY!”

“What?”

“Tattoo. HEY!”

“What? When did you get that?”

“Um…After you left. HEY!”

Lui was getting a little loud, and Scotty tried to shush him again. “Lui! Well-what is it of, what’s it say?”

“Nothin’, nothin,” Lui said dismissively. “Hey-hey-HEY!” Scotty grabbed Lui’s arm and forced it down, shoving up the shorter man’s sleeve. “N-n-no!”

Scotty squinted at the sloppy cursive letter on Lui’s arm before finally making out what it said. “David.”

Lui frowned and pulled his arm away, shoving his sleeve down to cover wrist. “Who’s David?” Scotty asked.

“Devil. It’s supposed to say devil,” Lui said, sitting back down.

“Well, it doesn’t say, devil, it says David,” Scotty said suspiciously.

“I know, I spelled it wrong,” Lui admitted.

“What?”

“I wrote down how I wanted it to look, and my handwriting, especially in cursive, is basically illegible. I told them to try and fix it, but they thought it said David, but it’s supposed to say devil,” Lui explained.

“Well, why is it supposed to say devil? Why would you want a tattoo that says devil?”

“Cause…” Lui muttered.

“Cause why?” Scotty persisted.

“Just cause.”

“Just. Cause. Why?” Scotty asked more impatiently.

Lui slammed his hand on the table and stood up almost angrily. “Just cause when someone has a guy like you, well I think losing a guy like you, driving a guy like you away-” he practically shouted.

“Lui, you didn’t drive me away!” Scotty tried to insist, looking nervously up front again.

“-it’s just criminal, it’s criminal!” Lui yelled. “It’s devilish!” He sighed. “So I punished myself. I marked myself a devil so I wouldn’t have to go through with what I went through with you again.” He sighed again. “Can I kiss you?”

“No.” Scotty wasn’t being mean, but it still stung. Lui tried to go in for a kiss anyway, but Scotty backed away. “You can get that undone, you know,” he said softly, in regards to the tattoo. “I gotta head.” He started walking away, his expression seeming almost guilty.

“Yeah. Hey-uh.” Scotty turned around. “I’m glad you got found,” Lui said softly.

Scotty smiled. “Thanks, Lui.” He walked back over to his table, and Lui almost smiled when he saw Scotty’s friends welcoming him back happily.

Suddenly the waiter that’d been annoying Lui and Scotty all night came rushing over. “Hey! Sorry! You were waving me down. I saw you, but it’s so busy in the front. There’s this bachelor party, those guys, ami’right? Good thing it’s not ‘Drink Free if You’re Glad,’ cause those guys are wicked glad. Gosh-had to fight my way through to find ya, but I did it! I found ya!” Lui almost smiled at how proud the guy seemed. “So, whad’ya need? What can I do for you? Another Bud?”

“Um…I’m okay. I’m good, thanks.” He looked up front at Scotty’s table sadly.

The waiter followed his gaze, then looked back and forth between the guys and Lui’s expression. “Oh, pal…” he said sympathetically. “Um…Um…” He shuffled nervously. “Well, like I said. Moose Paddy Special. Drinks are free if you’re sad. Okay? Just tell me you’re sad and you’ll drink free,” he said hopefully. When Lui didn’t respond, he tried again. “Just, say the word, let me know. Cause I know sad, and you’re looking pretty sad.” Lui still didn’t respond. “Okay, well, my name’s David if you need anything. Just ask for David.” He began walking away, and suddenly Lui felt like he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“David?” he asked incredulously.

David stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“I’m not sad, I just would like another Bud.”

“Okay,” David said, starting to walk away again.

“David!” Lui called again.

“Yeah?”

Lui smiled, glad. “I’m glad you found me,” he admitted.

David smiled back. “Aw, I’m glad you found me,” he said to himself as he walked away. “That’s adorable.”


	4. This Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original: This Hurts  
> Characters:  
> Marvalyn  
> Steve  
> Fic: This Hurts  
> Characters:  
> Smitty  
> Cody

It was late. Not that late, but late enough that Smitty was wondering why he had to be down here, ironing his and his boyfriend’s clothes (although he knew why).

He finished ironing the last shirt, but rendered his job useless, and threw it into the laundry basket without folding it. Screw it.

Smitty then unplugged the iron and started wrapping the cord around it. In the process, he accidentally brushed his hand against the metal part, which was still hot.

“Ow! Damnit,” he cursed, dropping the iron on the ironing board and clutching his hand.

He noticed someone seated on a bench in the room glance at him and write something down in a journal he had, but Smitty ignored him just like he ignored his own obviously wounded hand.

He put the iron back where it went, then collapsed the ironing board legs so it was flat on the ground. He started to exit the room with the board under his arm, then remembered that he'd forgotten his basket of laundry. He turned around to go get it, but he turned around so quickly, and with such force, that the board under his arm hit the guy on the bench, knocking him to the ground.

"Oh no! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Oh...I didn't see you! Are you okay?" Smitty apologized.

The man, however, seemed unfazed. "Yeah," he replied simply.

"No you're not!" Smitty insisted. "I just smashed you with the ironing board! I wasn't even looking! Are you hurt?"

The man calmly got to his feet and sat back on the bench. "No," he said just as simply as before.

"Oh you must be! I just smashed you! Where did I get you?"

"In the head."

Smitty gasped. "In the head? Oh," he walked over to the man. "Come here, are you okay?"

"Is there any blood?" the guy asked.

Smitty ran his fingers through the stranger's hair, and didn't see or feel any blood. "No."

"Any discoloration?" he asked, as if this were routine.

Again, Smitty looked, and again, he didn't see anything. "No."

"Then I'm okay," he replied cheerily.

Smitty regarded him strangely, but still released the man's head and started to walk away. "Well, I'm going to go get you some ice."

"No." The man's voice suddenly stopped him. "I can't feel things like that."

Smitty cocked an eyebrow. "Like what."

"Like when I get smashed with an ironing board. I don't get hurt."

This guy was getting really confusing. "What?"

"I don't feel pain." He said it like he was trying to ease Smitty's worry, but it made Smitty even more afraid.

"Oh Jeezum Crow what the hell have I done to you?" he exclaimed, alarmed.

"Nothing," the man tried to reassure.

"You're talking loopy! Listen to you, going on about not being able to feel pain, that's delusional!" A scary thought suddenly entered his mind. "I knocked the sense right out of you," he said, horrified.

"No, I'm okay," the stranger insisted.

Smitty ignored him. "Sh! Listen, I was gonna be a nurse, so I know: You're hurt. You just took a good shot to the head and that's serious."

"No it's not serious," the man objected. "I don't even think an ironing board could really hurt your head, cause, see-" he held up his journal. The cover read, in neat letters, 'Things That Can Hurt You' "-ironing boards aren't on my list of things that can hurt you-"

Smitty took the book curiously. "What is-?" he tried to ask.

"-plus there's no blood or discoloration from where I got his, so-" the stranger continued.

"Well you can be hurt and not be bleeding or bruised," Smitty pointed out.

"And my list is pretty reliable, cause my brother Paul is helping me make it, and I can prove it to you." Curiosity got the better of Smitty as he started flipping through the pages of the 'Things That Can Hurt You' book. "See, I bet if I took this ironing board," the stranger continued, picking it up. "-like this, and hit you with it, it wouldn't hurt you." He smashed Smitty on the head, catching him off guard. "See? That didn't hurt-"

"OW!" Smitty yelled, scrambling to get away from the guy. He must be insane, Smitty thought.

"Oh," the stranger said, seeming genuinely shocked that Smitty had been hurt.

"Ow! What the hell was that?! Why did you do that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! Did that hurt?"

"God!"

"Oh, it did, didn't it." The stranger bit his lip nervously and dropped the ironing board.

"Ow." Smitty clutched the back of his head.

"Oh, I didn't think it would, cause, see, ironing boards aren't on my list of things that can hurt you, but gosh, maybe they should be-"

"What are you talking about?"

The stranger stopped and looked at Smitty. "I have a list of things that can hurt you-my brother Paul is helping me make it-and ironing boards aren't on it."

"Well that ironing board hurt me."

"Yeah..."

"So you should add it to your list."

"Yeah." He took the book back and scribbled in it with his pencil. Smitty went back to continue with his laundry when the man spoke again. "Should I be afraid of ironing boards?"

"Well if someone uses them the way you used it, yeah," Smitty muttered, still somewhat bitter and in pain from the head smack and astonished that the other man wasn't feeling the same pain.

"Well it's not...I have a list of things to be afraid of too, and ironing boards aren't on the list either."

Smitty shrugged. "Well they shouldn't be, really."

"No?"

"No, you shouldn't be afraid of ironing boards." He would've been surprised that the guy was unsure if he should be afraid of an inanimate object, but he only learned that an ironing board could hurt someone a few seconds ago, so Smitty couldn't really blame him.

"But they can hurt you."

"Yeah."

"So I should be afraid of them."

"No."

"So I shouldn't be afraid of them?"

"No."

"But they can hurt me."

"Well, when they're used the way you used them, yeah."

"Oh-oh-oh," the man nodded vigorously like he understood. "So they're kind of like the opposite of god!"

Smitty just stared at him for a few seconds. "What?"

"Well, ironing boards can hurt me, but I shouldn't fear them. But god, my brother Paul says, god won't hurt me, but I should fear him."

Smitty took another few seconds to process. "I guess?"

"Boy, this is getting complicated," the man said, shaking his head.

"What is?"

"The business of learning what hurts, what doesn't hurt; what to be afraid of, what not to be afraid of..."

Maybe that head smack actually had done some damage. "Are you sure you're okay? You're just going on and on about crazy stuff-"

"Oh yeah, yeah," he dismissed. "I have congenital analgesia, he thinks. Some people-"

"What?" Smitty interrupted.

"Congenital analgesia," he repeated.

"Who thinks?"

"My brother Paul. Some people call it hereditary sensory neuropathy type four, but...it just means I can't feel pain. You can hit me if you want to, to see!"

"No," Smitty protested.

"Go ahead, it won't hurt. See?" He smacked his own head with his journal.

Smitty flinched. "Ow!"

"See?" the guy repeated, hitting himself again with the journal.

"Ow!"

"Go ahead." He tried handing Smitty the journal.

"No," Smitty protested, pushing the book away.

"Come on." He tried giving him the book again.

"No!" Smitty said, more forcefully.

The man gave up. "Okay. You don't have to. Most people don't. Hit me. Most people just go away." He looked down. "You can go away too, if you want to. That's what most people do when I tell them about myself. My brother Paul says I shouldn't tell people about myself, because I scare them," He handed Smitty the other journal and picked up the 'Things To Be Afraid Of' book. "-so I've actually recently put 'myself' on my list of things to be afraid of, but-" Smitty's curiosity got the better of him, and he smacked the stranger on the head.

And he instantly regretted it.

"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry! I just clocked you!" he apologized, but the stranger just smiled.

"You hit me! Most people go away, but you hit me!" he said happily.

"I had to see," Smitty defended. "But, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I don't-"

"-don't feel pain, right, of course you're okay-but, are you sure?"

"Well, is there any blood?"

Smitty checked, though he doubted there would be. "No."

"Any discoloration?"

Smitty didn't even have to check. "No."

"Then I'm okay."

"Well, you can be hurt and not even look like it," Smitty pointed out.

"But-"

"Trust me. There are things that hurt you that make you bruised and bloody, and there are things that hurt you that don't make you bruised and bloody, and...they all hurt." Smitty pondered where that had come from. He gave the man back his journal and held out his other hand. "I'm Smitty."

The man took the book and shook Smitty's hand vigorously. "I'm Cody. I live on the third floor. Room 11."

Smitty pulled his hand away cautiously. "I live with my boyfriend, John. I love him very much," he deflected.

"Yeah. We saw you move in."

"Yeah. Our roof collapsed from all the snow in December. We're just here until we can get our feel back on the ground."

"Oh. Well that's good, cause that's what Ma Dudley says this place-her boarding house-is. A place where people can live until they get their feet back on the ground. My brother Paul says we've been trying to get our feet back on the ground our whole lives." Cody sounded so neutral saying it, even though it was a pretty sad comment.

"Oh," Smitty replied, unsure of what to say.

"Yeah, it takes some people longer to do than others..."

"Yeah."

"You guys are loud," Cody said, changing the subject more cheerily.

"Huh?"

"You and John. You yell and bang. We're right below you."

"Oh. Sorry about that. We're going through a rough patch. Happens. Sorry." He stood there, kind of awkwardly, trying to think of what to say. He finally sat down next to Cody on the bench, so close that there was no room in between them. "So what's it like?" he asked almost eagerly.

"What?"

"To not feel pain," he clarified.

"I don't know. I don't know what it's like to hurt, so...I don't know. I don't really feel."

"Is this...how you were born?"

"Yeah, I don't have fully developed pain sensors. They're immature, my brother Paul says, and because they're immature-"

"How does he know that?"

"Oh he reads-"

"But-"

"-and because they're immature, my development as a human being has been retarded, he says. But he teaches me what hurts."

"Why?"

"So I won't ruin myself." 'God, how could someone this sweet be so depressing?' Smitty thought. "I have to know what hurts, so I know when to be afraid," Cody continued. "See, my mind can't tell me when to be afraid, cause my body doesn't know what being hurt is, so I have to memorize what might hurt."

"Okay..."

"And I have to memorize what to be afraid of." He flipped open his 'Thing To Be Afraid Of' book and pointed out a couple words to Smitty. "Things like bears. And guns. And knives. And fire. And fear-I should fear fear itself-and pretty girls, or cute guys, depending-"

"Cute guys?" Smitty asked, somewhat amused.

Cody looked up at him, then immediately looked down, seeming afraid all of a sudden. "Yeah..."

"Why should you be afraid of cute guys?"

"Well, my brother Paul says they can hurt by making you love them-"

"What?" Smitty said, feeling kind of offended, but not really surprised.

"-and that's something I'm supposed to be afraid of too-love-but Paul says I'm really lucky, cause I'll probably never have to deal with love, because I have a lot of deficiencies and not many capacities as a result of the congenital analgesia."

"Wait, what do you mean you'll never have to deal with love?"

"Cause I'll never know what it feels like, Paul says."

"Well how does he know that?"

"Cause it hurts."

Smitty looked down guiltily. "It shouldn't."

"Plus I have a lot of deficiencies and not many capacities."

Smitty sighed. "You know what, a lot of people do." And then he was kissing Cody. And then Cody was kissing him back. And then...

And then Smitty realized what he was doing.

He broke away and stood up immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he sputtered profusely. "Are you okay?"

"Well…is there any blood?"

Smitty sighed. "No."

"Any discoloration?"

He looked at the blush in Cody's cheeks. "No."

"Then…I'm okay?"

"Yeah, you are," Smitty admitted. "I'm so sorry I did that. It's just…you're very sweet."

"But, you have a boyfriend, and you love him very much," Cody said, trying to make sense of what happened.

"Yes I do. And, yes, I do."

"And you just kissed me."

Smitty looked away. "Yes, I did."

"And, it's a Friday night, and you're doing your laundry."

"Yes, I am." Smitty remembered what he'd come down for, and went back to collect everything to bring upstairs.

"And people who love each other, they don't kiss other people and do their laundry on Friday nights, I've learned that. People who are in love with each other, they go to the Moose Paddy on Friday nights, or they go dancing together, or they go skating. And they kiss each other. They don't kiss other people-you know what? I don't think that's love what you and your boyfriend have-"

"I've been down here longer than I said I'd be and he doesn't like that," Smitty deflected, preparing to leave.

"Who?"

"My boyfriend."

"Who you love very much?"

"Yes." Why did it feel like a lie? Oh hell, he knew why.

"Even though you just kissed me?"

"Yes."

Cody stood up. "Wow, I'm going to have to talk to my brother Paul about this-"

"No! Don't talk to your brother Paul about this!" Smitty shouted, stopping Cody in his tracks. "Tell him to stop teaching you."

"What?"

"Whatever he's teaching you, tell him to stop. What he's teaching you…isn't something you want to know."

"But I have to learn from him-"

"Look, I was gonna be a nurse, so I know: You need to go to a doctor and not have your brother read whatever it is he reads."

"But-"

"You know what?" Smitty sighed. "I gotta go."

Cody sat back down on the bench. "Right. You gotta go. You're-you're leaving. I knew you would. That's what people do."

Smitty did have to go, but he didn't want to have to hurt this guy's feelings. "No, I just have to-I told you, John doesn't like it if I'm down here longer than I said I'd be." He grabbed the basket and ironing board. "-and I've been down here longer than I said I'd be-!" In his hurry, he dropped the basket of laundry, and as he turned around to pick it up, the ironing board under his arm swung around-and smacked Cody in the head, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"OW!" Cody yelled, clutching the back of his head.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Smitty apologized.

"OW!"

"I'm so sorry! Are you all right? I can't believe I just did that to you again!"

"OW!"

Smitty went to help him, but stopped short. "Wait-what did you just say?"

Cody rubbed his head, realizing what he said.

"Ow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, nothing against Smii7y/Kryoz, just figured I'd use him as a character.


	5. Getting It Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original: Getting It Back  
> Characters:  
> Gayle  
> Lendall  
> Fic: Getting It Back  
> Characters:  
> Craig  
> Tyler

It was late. Not that late, but late enough that Tyler hearing banging on his front door was pretty much unreasonable. Even though it was-

"Tyler!" Craig yelled, banging on the front door again-way past knocking, full on pounding. "Tyler!" More pounding. "Tyler!"

"Okay, Craig! Shhh! I'm coming, I'm coming!" Why this couldn't wait until Saturday morning, he didn't know, but if Craig was here now, it was probably important.

Even more pounding. "Tyler!"

"Hey hey hey! Shhh! Come on, I'm coming, I'm coming!" He opened the door and Craig blew past him, fuming.

"Tyler-"

"What's the matter?" Tyler asked, concerned. "What's going on." Craig just stood there, stewing. "What?!"

"I want it back," Craig said fiercely.

"What?" Tyler asked, not understanding.

"I want it back," he repeated.

"What?"

"All the love I gave to you. I want it back."

Tyler tried to process the request. "What?"

"Now," he demanded.

"I don't understand-"

"I've got yours in the car."

"What?"

"All the love you gave to me. I've got it in the car."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't want it anymore."

That hurt. "Why?"

Craig took a deep breath. "I've made a decision: We're done."

"What?!" Tyler asked, alarmed.

"We're done, I decided. And so, I've brought all the love you gave to me back to you. It's the right thing to do." He stated it like it was simple.

"Um, I-"

"It's in the car."

"You said." He was still kind of paralyzed trying to figure everything out.

Craig seemed to be waiting for something. "I can get it for you, or you can get it," he said, as if explaining something to a five-year-old.

"Well I don't want it back. I don't need it," Tyler insisted.

"Well, I don't want it. What am I supposed to do with it now that I don't want it anymore?"

"I don't know."

"Well, under the circumstances-"

"Under what circumstances?"

"-it doesn't seem right for me to keep it, so I'm gonna give it back," Craig said over his shoulder as he walked out the front door, presumably to get the stuff from the car.

"Craig!" Tyler called "What are-? I don't understand...What are you doing?"

"I told you. I'm getting all the love you gave to me and giving it back to you."

"Well, I'm not sure I want it-" He stopped when Craig walked in holding two enormous bags filled to the brim with love. "Whoa. Need help?"

"Nope. I got it. It's not heavy," Craig remarked, his face neutral but his voice breaking a little. "Here you go." He dropped the bags on the living room floor and walked back through the front door to retrieve more.

"And this is...?" Tyler said, puzzled.

"All the love you gave to me, yeah."

"Wow. That's a lot."

Craig walked back in with two more equally large bags. "Yeah." He dropped them on the floor and walked outside again.

"Whole lot," Tyler remarked.

"Yeah." This time he brought in three bags, and the entire pile was taking up a third of the living room floor.

"Wow. What the heck am I gonna do with all this. I mean...I don't know if I have the room."

Craig looked down, upset. "Well I guess you're gonna have to find a place for it, won't you?" His voice cracked again on the last word. "And now, I think it's only fair for you to give me mine back because...I want it back." Tyler just stood there, taking in the bags and Craig standing in front of him expectantly. "All the love I gave to you?"

"Yeah?"

"I want it back," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "So go get it." Tyler still stood there, trying to figure out what was happening and why it was happening. "Tyler, go get it." He still stood there, confused. "Please?" He didn't move. "Now!!" Craig demanded, making Tyler jump a little.

"Okay," Tyler said, defeated. He left the room to get what Craig asked for.

When he returned, Craig was sitting in the armchair next to the wooden side table. Tyler took the tiny pouch with Craig's love and plunked it on the table. Craig just stared at it for a few seconds.

"What is that?" he finally said.

"It's all the love you gave me." 'It's what he asked for, isn't it?'

"That's-that is not-there's no way..." Craig just sat there, mortified. "Is that all I gave you?"

"It's all I could find," Tyler admitted.

"Oh. Okay." Craig raised his hand to take the bag, then dropped it. "Okay." His voice cracked a third time, and he finally started crying.

The scene broke Tyler's heart. "Craig-what's going on here?" he asked gently.

"I told you: We're done." He tried to hold in his sobs, but it wasn't working.

"Why do you keep saying that?"

"Because-" Craig stopped and took a deep breath. "Because when I asked you if you ever thought we were gonna get married-remember when I asked you that?" Tyler looked away, not wanting to remember. "In December?-It was snowing?" Craig clarified.

Tyler remembered. "Yeah."

"Yeah, well, when I asked you...that, you got so...quiet. And everybody said that that right there shoulda told me everything."

"Everybody who?"

"Everybody," Craig said, like it was obvious.

"Who?" Tyler pressed.

"...Smitty said that-"

"Smitty? Smitty said that, like he's an expert?"

"-yes, Smitty said that how quiet you got was all I needed to know, and he's right!" Craig bit his lip, but forced the next sentence out. "You don't love me."

"What?! Craig, no-" Tyler tried to protest.

"Shh!" Craig stood up abruptly. "And I've been trying to fix that, I've tried to make you love me by giving you every bit of love I had, and now...I don't have any love for me left and that's...that's not good for a person...and...that's why I want all the love I gave you back, because I wanna bring it with me."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to get away from...things."

"What? What things? There aren't any things in this town to get away from."

"Yes there are: You!" Craig said almost accusingly.

"Me?" Tyler asked, bewildered.

"Yes, you are the thing in this town I need to get away from. I need to think and start over, and so: All the love I gave to you? I want it back, in case I need it. Because I can't very well go around giving your love-cause that's all I have right now, the love you gave me-and I can't very well go around giving your love to other guys, cause that just doesn't seem right-"

The last part caught Tyler's attention. "Other guys? There are other guys?"

"No, not yet. But, I'm assuming there will be," Craig admitted. Tyler was glad Craig had stopped crying, but not if it meant he was mad.

"Craig-"

"Shh! So I think-I think that, since I know now that you're mot ready to do what comes next for people who've been together for quite a long time," Craig took a deep breath, and Tyler finally realized. 'He thinks I don't want to marry him.' "I think we're gonna be done-"

"Why? Craig-"

"-and so, I think the best thing we can do, now, is just return the love we gave to each other and call it..." He looked at the pouch Tyler gave back to him, and at the multiple bags that he'd been returning to Tyler. "...even." It didn't look even at all. Craig was suddenly upset again, but seeming more towards himself than Tyler. "Oh Jeezum Crow, is really all the love I gave you, Tyler? I mean, I thought-I mean what kind of person am I if this is all the love I gave y-..." Craig looked devastated. "No...N-n-no!" he said fiercely. "I know I gave you more than that, Tyler, I know it." A thought seemed to hit him, and he attacked. "Did you lose it?"

Tyler held up his hands in defense. "What? No, Craig! No!"

"Did you lose it Tyler? Cause I know I gave you more than that, and I think you're pulling something on me, and this is not the time to be pulling something on me-!"

"I'm not! Pulling something on you," Tyler said slowly. "I wouldn't do that to you...Just-...I think...Gosh..." He sighed, realizing his loss. "I think maybe you should just take what you came for, and I guess I'll see you later." He turned away in defeat and left, only not really. Instead of going back to his room, he turned the corner and stopped. 'Open the bag, open the bag,' he silently prayed.

"Tyler...Tyler!" 'Open the bag.' He peeked around the corner and saw Craig grab the pouch from the table. 'Open it.' Craig seemed ready to throw it away, but Tyler knew him better than that. Instead, Craig opened it and looked inside.

"Tyler-what is this? I don't...This isn't...Tyler what is this?" Craig asked softly. Craig knew Tyler too well too. He knew Tyler hadn't really left.

"It's a ring, Craig," he answered.

"What?"

He stepped around the corner. "It's a ring."

"What? Well what the..." Craig pulled the small velvet box out of the bag. "This isn't-this is not..." Tyler could see the look of realization on Craig's face. "Oh, Tyler, this is a ring! Is this a...ring? A ring you give to someone you've been with for quite a long time when you want to let them know that you're ready for what comes next for people who've been together for quite a long time?" Tyler could see the tears in his lover's eyes.

"Yeah."

"Oh...Oh!" Craig breathed. "But, all the love I gave to you? Where is it?"

Tyler pointed at the ring. "It's right there, Craig."

"But-"

"It's right there."

"But-"

"It is! That's it! Right there! There was so much of it. You've given me so much over the years-"

"Eleven," Craig said happily.

"Eleven years."

"Eleven, yeah," Craig practically squealed. 'He is so cute.'

"You gave me so much...that I didn't know what to do with it all. I had to put some in the garage, some in the shed, I asked my dad if he had any suggestions of what to do with it all, and he said, 'You got a ring yet?' I said, 'No.' He said, 'Get him one. It's time. When there's so much of that stuff comin' in, that's about the only place you can put it.' He was right. That thing is a lot bigger than it looks. So...there it is. All the love you gave me. Just not in the same...form as when you gave it to me."

"Yeah." Craig just stared at the box, not even opening it, just looking.

"You still want it back?"

Craig looked at him with adoration. "Yes, I do."

"Well then...take it."

Craig glanced at the piles of love he brought in. "Can I keep all that?"

"It's yours," Tyler reassured him.

"Thank you." He looked at the box again. "Tyler-you didn't have to get me a ring. That's not what I was asking for."

"Yes, I did," Tyler objected. "It was time. And it was honorable."

Craig finally opened the box and sighed. "Well...it's very beautiful." He slipped it on his left ring finger. "Tyler-I'm so sorry. It's just-it's a Friday night, and I was sittin' all home all by myself-we didn't even go out or anything, and I started thinkin' that that's just not right, and-"

Tyler cut off Craig with a kiss, full of all the love they'd given each other over the years. He then pulled his fiance-fiance!-into a loving embrace. And even though he couldn't see behind his back, he knew Craig's arm was outstretched, and he was looking at the ring.


	6. They Fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Original: They Fell  
> Charaters:  
> Chad/*Shelly  
> Randy/*Deena  
> Fic: They Fell  
> Characters:  
> Ryan  
> Bryce  
> (The reason I added *Shelly and *Deena is because there's an alternate scene that has two girls instead of two guys-and yes the scene from the actual play is a gay one-so I used a lot of lines from the girl version since that's the more queer one. It's basically a combination of the guys and girls version. Sorry if that's confusing, but hope you enjoy this chapter!)

It was late. Not that late, but late enough that Bryce and Ryan could have been watching the stars above them. They'd set up their folding chairs in the middle of Brock's potato field-he never minded the other 100 times they did it-and were drinking their Natural Lite beers, having their typical Friday night conversation.

"I believe you, I'm just sayin'-" Ryan said.

"It was bad Ryan, bad," the blond interrupted.

"I hear ya, but-"

"But you're not listening. Ry: It was bad."

"No you're not listening, cause-"

"Real bad, historical bad," Bryce said dramatically, making gestures with his beer can.

"I'm trying to tell you I had a pretty bad time myself!" Ryan topped him off.

Bryce stopped his motions and looked and Ryan for a moment. "No. There's no way," he scoffed in disbelief.

"It was pretty bad, Bryce."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay." Bryce leaned back in his chair. "Go."

"She..." Ryan bit his lip nervously. Bryce could tell he was embarrassed, so he silently encouraged his friend to go on. "She said she didn't like the way I smelled," he blurted out.

"What?" Bryce asked. That was it?

"Sally told me she didn't like the way I smelled. Never has."

"Sally Dunleavy told you that she didn't like the way you-"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"When I picked her up. She got in the truck-we were backing out of her driveway-and all of a sudden she starts, um...hyper...hyper...breathing hard, you know?-hyper..."

"Ventilating?" Bryce suggested.

"Hyperventilating, yeah. So she asked me to stop, and got outta the truck and said she was sorry but she couldn't go out with me, because she didn't like the way I smelled, never had-"

"Wait, what? Never had, when had she smelled you before?" Bryce asked, confused.

"I don't know, around?" Ryan sounded just as confused.

"Well, jeez."

"Anyway, said she thought she was gonna be able to overlook it-the way I smelled-but that wasn't gonna be possible after all, and she slammed the door on me and left me sitting there in her driveway."

It sounded ludicrous. "Cause she didn't like the way you smelled?"

"Yeah," Ryan said, blushing slightly as he chugged his beer.

"Well, what kinda..." Bryce looked at his friend who clearly needed some kind of comfort. "I don't mind the way you smell," he offered.

Ryan smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

"Matter of fact, I think you smell great," he added. He stopped, considering whether to add "no homo" or something, but mentally shrugged and decided against it.

"Thanks," Ryan said gratefully. He sighed and drank some more beer. "Anyway, told you it was bad, huh?"

"More than bad, Ry. That's sad."

"Yeah." There were a couple seconds of silence, and then Ryan spoke up again. "So I'm guessing that I'm the big winner tonight, huh? So...I get to pick what we do tomorrow. And I pick bowling. We'll go bowling, supper at the Snow Mobile Club, coupla beers at the Moose Paddy, just hang out." He smiled confidently and went to take another sip of beer when Bryce interrupted.

"I didn't say you're the big winner."

Ryan stopped and lowered his beer can. "What?"

"Did I say you were the big winner?"

"No, but-"

"Nope. All that's pretty sad Ry, and bad, but you didn't win."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't win."

Ryan chuckled in disbelief. "You can beat being told that you smell bad?"

"Yeah."

"Well then, let's hear it."

Bryce paused and took a sip of beer for dramatic effect, then finally answered.

"Mine's face broke."

Ryan looked at him in disbelief. "What?"

"Her face broke," Bryce repeated. "Only get one chance with a girl like Yvonne LaFrance, and her face broke." He sighed. "Told you it was bad."

"How did her face break?"

"When we were dancing."

Ryan snorted in disbelief. _"Dancing?"_

"Yup."

"Why were you dancing?"

"Cause that's what she wanted to do. On our date. So I took her. Took her dancing down to the rec center, you pay, then you get a lesson, and you dance all night. They teach, 'together dancing', how to dance together."

Ryan snorted again. "Sounds fun."

Bryce rolled his eyes. "And we learned that thing where you throw the girl up and over, and, Yvonne...well she's pretty small, and I'm pretty strong. And, I threw her up and over, and well...I threw her... _over,_ over...and she landed on her face." Ryan and Bryce cringed simultaneously. "And it broke." He sighed. "Had to take her to the emergency room."

Ryan smiled sympathetically. "That's a drive."

"Thirty-eight miles," Bryce agreed.

"And she _cried_!" Bryce said disgustedly.

"Hate that."

"Whole way. Then she asked me to call her old boyfriend to come get her."

Ryan laughed. "Seriously?"

Bryce giggled too. "Yeah, and he did. Asked me to 'Please leave.'" They both took another sip of their drinks. "He's as small as she is," Bryce added, sending them both into more laughter. They sat quietly for a few seconds, when Ryan laughed again, somewhat suddenly. "What?" Bryce asked.

"That's just-pretty bad."

"Yeah," Bryce admitted.

"And sad," he added.

"Yeah," Bryce said in a tone that stated "I get it, you don't have to rub it in"

"So...I guess you win. That right there may make you the big winner of all time."

"Yup." Bryce agreed.

"'Baddest-Date-Guy' of all time."

Bryce laughed. "Yup."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you.

"So...What do you pick tomorrow?"

Bryce pretended to think. "Bowling. Supper at the Snowmobile Club. Coupla beers at the Moose Paddy. Hang out."

"Sounds good." They drank their beers simultaneously and sat back to look at the stars. Ryan laughed again.

"What?" Bryce said curiously.

"Aw, Bryce, I don't know. Just sometimes...I don't know why I bother going 'out.' I mean, I know why, it's cause, you gotta go out. But, lately I've been going out and nothing's coming of it, you know? I mean, I don't like it, Bryce. I hate it. I hate going out on these dates. Like, why do I wanna spend my Friday night with some girl I might _maybe_ like, when I could spend it with someone I _know_ I like, like you, you know?"

"Yeah." Bryce tapped his foot and thought quietly.

"I mean...that was rough tonight," Ryan continued, "In the middle of Sally telling me how she didn't like the way I smelled. I mean, she doesn't even smell all that great."

"Not many of them do," Bryce added.

"Anyways, I just got real sad.

"Aw, buddy,"

"-and all I could think about was how not much in this world makes me feel good, or makes sense anymore, and I got really scared, because there's gotta be something that makes you feel good, or at least makes sense in this world, or what's the point, right?"

"Yeah..."

"But then I kinda came out of being sad, and actually felt okay, because I realized that there is one thing in this world that makes me feel really good, and that makes sense, and it's you. It's always been..." Ryan and Bryce looked at each other, confused. "You." They stared at each other for what felt like forever, each trying to sort out what had just happened.

"Well, I'm gonna head, Ry," Bryce said, trying to escape the discomfort. He got out of his chair to leave, he could probably come and get it in the morning or Brock would get it anyway.

Ryan looked upset. "Yeah.."

"I gotta work in the morning," Bryce tried to deflect.

"Well, I'm supervising first shift at the mill, so I can pick you up any time after three-" Ryan said, standing up as well.

"Oh, I don't know, Ryan. Me and Tyler, we got a long day tomorrow-we're still catching up, fixing roofs from all the snow in December. Gotta still do Smitty's and John's, and-"

"Well, four or five?" Ryan asked hopefully. "Six or seven?"

"Probably gonna be busy all day, I don't know when we'll be done..."

"Well you just say when-"

"I don't know-I don't know-I don't know-so..."

"Well, I'll be ready for whenever you want me to come pick you up-"

"Hey, hey, hey, Ry." Finally wanting to just leave, Bryce looked Ryan in the eyes and put his hands on his shoulders to quiet him down. "Maybe we ought to give it a few days, see when we both have time, and we'll make a plan, okay?"

Ryan dropped his gaze.

"I gotta head," Bryce continued. "Okay?" He began walking away.

"Okay," Ryan said, disappointed.

Bryce stopped and turned around. "Okay?"

"Okay," Ryan repeated.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Bryce began walking away, for good, but suddenly Ryan's voice stopped him. "Hey, Bryce?" The blonde turned around to look at his friend, but when their eyes met, Ryan suddenly collapsed.

"Whoa! Ryan, are you okay?" He ran over to Ryan's side.

"Yeah..."

"What the-? Here." He helped Ryan to his feet.

"Thanks..." Ryan said, avoiding Bryce's gaze.

"What was that? You okay?" What just happened there?"

"Well, I just fell," Ryan stated obviously.

Bryce almost rolled his eyes. "Well, I know, I saw."

"No, I just-I think I just fell in love with you there, Bryce." He looked at Bryce and fell again.

"Ryan!" Bryce shouted as his friend fell to the ground.

"Yup, that's what that was," Ryan said. "Me falling in love with you." He tried to get up, but looked at Bryce as he did so, and fell to the ground again.

"Ryan, what are you doing, come on get up." Bryce grabbed Ryan's arm and pulled him to his feet.

"N-n-no, Bryce." Their eyes met, and Ryan collapsed again, but this time didn't try to get up.

Bryce was getting fed up. "Would you cut that out?" he shouted angrily.

"I'm sorry Bryce, I can't help it, I've fallen in love with you!" Ryan blurted out. Bryce took a step back in surprise, finally realizing what was going on. He took a second to process.

"Ryan, I'm your best friend in the whole world, and I don't quite know what you're doing, or what you're going on about, but-" He suddenly got angry. "What the heck is your problem? What the heck are you doing? Jeezum Crow, you're my best friend!"

"Yeah," Ryan said, not moving from his spot on the ground.

 _"Yeah!_ And that's a thing you don't mess with! And you messed with it! And you don't _do_ that!" He turned away fiercely and was about to walk away, but then stopped and turned around. "Cause you know something, you're about the only thing that feels really good, or makes sense in this world to me too. But then you go and foul it up by doing _this_ and telling me _that,_ and now it just doesn't make any sense at all!" He turned around again, to leave, but stopped, again. "And that doesn't feel good. And I think I'm really mad at you, cause you can't go back! Once it's out there, you can't take it back, something like that, and now it's just hanging there, and-" Bryce took a deep breath. "You've done a real number on a good thing here, buddy, cause we're best friends. And there's a line when you're friends that you can't cross, and you've crossed it!"

He turned away angrily, and was about to leave, when he looked back one last time. And this time Ryan was looking straight at him. And when their eyes met, Bryce felt something inside of him. He wasn't sure what it was, but the next thing he knew, He had fallen to the ground. He'd just fallen for Ryan.

The two looked over at each other and realized what was happening. They both tried to stand up to go over to each other, but when they looked each other in the eyes, they fell again. They kept trying to be closer, but if they looked each other in the eyes, they'd feel themselves falling in love all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite scene (and not just because I was in it)


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These are the characters from the Prologue, no need to list.
> 
> Also, I skipped 3 scenes, but only because I ran out of characters/ships

It was late. Too late. Evan finally gave up sitting and waiting on the bench. He stood up and took a few steps in the direction that Jon had left. The only sign of anyone there were the footprints that'd been left in the snow.

Evan sighed and turned around, preparing to leave. He looked back, and there standing right by the bench was Jon. He was looking at Evan and smiling proudly. Evan looked at the snowball he was still clutching and made a circular motion around it. 'You did it? You went around the world for me? You went that far just to be close to me?' he asked silently. Jon nodded.

Evan dropped it in the snow and sat down on the left side of the bench, and Jon joined him.

They leaned back and looked at the stars. Those orbs of light may seem far away, but tonight, they were close.

Maybe one night, they'll be even closer. And closer…and closer…and closer…and…

Closer.


End file.
